


Rhyme Time

by ageless_aislynn



Series: Snowells Kisses prompts [16]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26260558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ageless_aislynn/pseuds/ageless_aislynn
Summary: Prompt by BrokenBookAddictPairing: Caitlin Snow/H.R. WellsSnowells Kisses prompt12.One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.
Relationships: Caitlin Snow/Earth-19 Harrison "HR" Wells
Series: Snowells Kisses prompts [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813312
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Rhyme Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrokenBookAddict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenBookAddict/gifts).



H.R. glanced into the med bay, stumbling to a halt as he did a double-take.

Caitlin sat, holding an honest-to-goodness three-ring binder and tapping a pen against her lower lip. Fortunately, the capped end because you only needed to go out with scribble on your lips once -- okay, _four times_ \-- before people started giving you funny looks.

What was noteworthy, besides the fact she was writing something so traditionally, was her expression. Caught somewhere between a scowl and a pout, as if she was feeling both angry and also childish over the fact she was angry.

In a brusque gesture, she uncapped the pen and wrote in the notebook. Then she crossed it out and wrote something else, her expression growing stormier as it went. 

He couldn't possibly just go on his merry way with this intriguing mystery right in front of him.

"Heyyy," he drawled, poking his head in. "Whatcha doing?"

She instinctively clasped the notebook to her chest and he winced slightly. That was going to… Yep, now she had an ink stain on her nice, pale blue blouse. 

She hadn't noticed yet. "Oh, um, hi, H.R.," she said. "What's going on?"

"I asked you first," he said, entering the room at a tentative lope, not quite sure if he was welcome or not.

"I just… I was trying… I thought it might be good to get my feelings down and…" She stopped spluttering then said in a rush, "I'm writing a poem about the Reverse Flash. My feelings. How I didn't get the chance to really _say_ all I needed to say and it's been eating at me all these years and I read somewhere that if you write it down that it might help and I used to like to write poetry in high school sometimes so I thought I'd try it again."

She'd managed all that in one breath. He raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"Well," he said, "that sounds pretty good to me. Get in some quality rhyme time. Unless you're going rhyme-free. Either way, very valid. Very therapeutic."

"It was," she confessed, "but then…"

"What?" he prompted as she paused overly long.

"Writer's block."

He recoiled as if she'd slapped him. "No!"

"Yes," she affirmed. "Here I am at the last stanza and nothing will come to me."

The sulky look took over her face again. Well, at least he knew what to do about _that_.

He stepped closer, leaned down, and kissed her squarely on the mouth. "There you go," he proclaimed.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Um, what was that for?"

He struck a pose, reciting:

" _Whenever a pout is on your face,  
And you want it gone with all due haste,  
Then this is what you cannot miss,  
Remove it with a friendly kiss._"

She didn't look any more enlightened.

"What? You don't have that one here?"

She shook her head. "No, we don't but… Oh no, my blouse!"

She plucked at the smears and blobs of ink in dismay. "Ooo, that makes me want to…"

Then she trailed off, anger slowly fading into a faraway look. He knew that look. 

_Inspiration._

He mimed zipping his lips shut and backed all of the way out of the med bay, leaving her to grapple with her muse in peace.

Later, Caitlin called his name as he made his way to the Cortex.

"Hey," he said, smiling as she approached, her expression a cross between nervous and determined. She still had on her ink-smeared blouse but now her darker blue skirt was also a bit wrinkled as if she had been _literally_ wrestling her muse. Yeah, he'd been there before. "So, how'd it go? I hope you--"

She caught the front of his vest and abruptly pulled him into a kiss. When she released him, all he could do was blink at her. "Where I'm from," she said, "that's one way to say thank you."

It wasn't until he'd turned in a daze to watch her hurry away that he realized she'd pressed a folded piece of paper into his hand. He opened it and found her poem, now meticulously written out in a tidy cursive script.

It was quite moving, detailing her feelings of betrayal, of the loss of a friendship that had never actually been. Of never really knowing someone beneath the mask they wore, of the struggle to reconcile these conflicting emotions. By the time, he got to the final stanza, he was reading out loud with genuine passion:

" _If I ever see you again,  
And you still have that smug grin,  
The one that makes me feel like such a sucker,  
Then I'm flat-out decking you, you sorry m--_"

He cut off, a smile slowly spreading from ear-to-ear. A woman who could appreciate a quality rhyme?

 _Uh-oh,_ he thought, folding the paper and putting it into his inner vest pocket. _You'd better watch yourself, Harrison R. Wells, or you will be in looove._


End file.
